


Come Away With Me

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, F/M, Princess Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: Emma feels trapped in her role as princess and yearns for a life of freedom and adventure. A certain pirate offers her everything she's ever wanted and more.





	

Emma managed to escape the chaos of the ball while Grumpy and Sneezy caused a scene, loudly arguing over something petty, no doubt, and putting a damper on the otherwise festive atmosphere. She’d never been more grateful for her honorary uncles’ ill-tempered manners.

Her formal attire was beyond uncomfortable. No matter how many times she’d told her dressmaker to use soft, delicate materials like silk or velvet, the woman seemed to have her heart set on whatever new and exotic and stylish fabrics she could find. (Oftentimes, this backfired, leaving Emma with red rashes from chafing. But luckily, trends tended to be set by royalty so Emma had the benefit of seeing the rest of the court in gowns just as uncomfortable.) The lacy edges itched her skin, the corset was laced a bit on the tight side, and the beaded necklace she wore kept catching on the baby fine hairs on the back of her neck. It was dreadful.

She had to admit, though, it was a beautiful ensemble. Red was definitely her color, and she loved the freedom of wearing a strapless dress. She was glad she thought to ask for long gloves to keep her arms warm; the nights were getting colder as autumn dwindled away and winter approached.

It was on the balcony through her private library that Emma finally stopped walking, the swish of her skirts and clack of her heels finally quieting as she wrapped her arms around herself and peered out at the kingdom lights twinkling lowly in the distance.

She sighed.

It was an odd thing, missing the comfort of commoner’s clothing and the feeling of dirt on her skin. She was rather rebellious as a child, especially in her teenage years, and had run away on multiple occasions. At fifteen, she’d managed to avoid being caught for nearly half a year! Even now, she had very few regrets about it. Of course she felt apologetic towards her parents, whose heads of hair began graying during her absence, but being a princess was exhausting and she always longed for adventure. And even with all the love and support the king and queen gave her, she still could not get them to _understand_.

She hadn’t spent any great length of time away from her royal life in years, though she still did occasionally sneak away for a night to relive those blessed six months of freedom. Honestly, it was even better now, being a woman. Well, as long as she wore tattered rags, ill-fitted corsets, and a hood to cover her golden head of hair, easily the most distinguishable feature of the princess to her subjects.

A small, secretive smile tugged at her lips as she remembered nights spent in dirty taverns by the docks and the company she held in those exhilarating moments, of the casual and carefree flirting that always led to kissing which inevitably led to skirts hiked around her hips and her back pressed into a hard surface and a very un-gentlemanly gentleman’s lips on the exposed skin of her breasts. The thought alone would be enough to keep her warm on frigid night such as this if she weren’t also preoccupied with thoughts of politics and responsibilities and _suitors_.

“You look _stunning_ in that dress, love.” 

Her heart just about jumped out of her chest, and she whipped around with her hand pressed to her chest.

Garments of a deep black, the dark kohl around his eyes even deeper, hair messy and windblown, thick brows raised in amusement, and the dangerous glint of silver metal catching the faraway lights of the kingdom. He looked every bit the roguish scoundrel that his reputation suggested. But there was something slightly off.

“Where’s your greatcoat, Captain?”

He grinned, stepping away from where he’d been leaning against the cold stone wall and moving towards her.

“It was getting in the way while I was scaling your wall. Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. You know I prefer you with less on, anyway.”

In a flash, his arms were around her waist and his lips were on hers, needy and intense and everything she had been missing for months now. Her toes curled in her ridiculous heels and she breathed deeply through her nose, her hands traveling up the length of his torso to cradle his jaw as he thoroughly and passionately kissed her into oblivion.

“Well hello to you, too,” she gasped after they finally broke for air, foreheads tenderly pressed together as they caught their breaths.

“Mm, hello, dearest.”

He kissed her again, softer this time, less sensual but full of affection. She could feel every bit of tension melting away, thoughts of the ball and her parents and her uncomfortable dress all fading. When they pulled apart, she gave him a shaky smile.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, Emma. I missed you, too.”

His hand moved up and over the bare skin of her shoulder and even with the cool air she now felt warm. She loved the way his heavy rings felt as he glided his palm up her neck, the way his thumb trailed over her cheek, the way he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her face. She scratched lightly at the slight overgrowth of his facial hair, wishing to rid herself of her gloves to feel it beneath her fingertips, then let both hands slide down to brush over the bare expanse of his chest.

“There’s a ball going on, you know.”

“I do know. I saw all those bloody carriages heading to the palace.”

“If you knew I’d be out mingling with high society all night, why did you come?”

“Please. Like you could stand to be around such nonsense for an entire night without a moment to yourself. I know you better than you know yourself, love. Besides, even if you hadn’t come to our favorite little rendezvous spot, I would be a fool to risk not seeing you at all. Perhaps I’d have stolen some suitable clothes from one of the many, _many_ rooms in your home and masqueraded as a guest at your ball.”

“I think you’re underestimating the keen eye of the royal guards. I doubt they’d let someone looking so unkempt through the doors.”

“Unkempt?” he gaped, looking utterly appalled. “I’ll have you know this ‘unkempt’ pirate of yours shaved not but… four or five days ago. Or six.” She snickered, shoulders bouncing with laughter. “Besides, if the royal guards inside the palace are as lax as those around its borders then I imagine I’d have no problem at all slipping past them. Haven’t I done it enough times to prove my stealth and cunning?”

“You know, I seem to recall giving you a map of the palace grounds with the exact route to take to avoid getting caught.”

“Well _I_ won the heart of the princess who gave me the map. Ergo, it’s thanks to my own cleverness and charm that I manage to avoid being caught and charged with breaking into the palace. Not to mention the piracy charges. Or the undoubtedly hefty sentence for sullying the king and queen’s beloved daughter.”

“Sullying?” she laughed. “You give yourself too much credit.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’d never allow any harm to come to you in any case.”

“Oh? You’d save me from my cruel fate?” 

Her eyes softened. His words were clearly made in jest, but even the thought of him being sentenced to a life in prison – or worse, death – for his crimes made her bristle. She was not under the impression that he was some wholesome and upstanding man, with a heart of pure gold and intentions of the noblest kind. He had a dreadfully violent past and even now he stripped royal ships from neighboring kingdoms bare of money and expensive things merely for entertainment. But it didn’t make him a monster. It didn’t make her love him any less.

Besides, Emma wasn’t entirely opposed to his acts of treason. Plenty of royal families, including many that happened to be present for the ball still ongoing in another part of the palace, were greedy and cruel. Why on earth her parents insisted upon socializing with the damn tyrants, she could never understand. The blanket excuse of, “It’s politics, Emma. Sometimes you must make friends with the enemies or there will be even greater suffering,” did not offer her any comfort.

“You’re a good man,” she said, tugging on the skull charm hanging around his neck. “And you’re mine. No one else, not even Death himself, is allowed to have you.”

She felt the curve of his hook against her hip, rolling in circles as his gaze darted between her eyes. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, but he surprised her with his next words. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Emma.”

It felt like her heart turned to ice in her chest. 

“What?” she breathed, tightening her grip on his jewelry, her knuckles blanching.

“I meant the sneaking around,” he clarified, wrapping his hand around hers to ease her grip. Emma marginally relaxed, waiting for him to explain himself. “Do you really think that it’s possible for us to keep this up forever?”

“I… I don’t-“

“I’m gone for months at a time, Emma. I miss you every bloody day and I just… I can’t do it. I can’t accept that I only get to see you like this, for late-night trysts in the library when I’m in port for a few days. It’s not enough.” 

“Killian…”

“Let me finish, please.” She hated the uneasy crease in his brow and the sorrowful sheen to his eyes, wanted to kiss away his fears, but she allowed him to continue uninterrupted. “You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t have suitors lined up in that ball right now who aren’t desperate for your hand. Princes and dukes and lords. Men your parents and the whole bloody kingdom would see as worthy of you and fit to rule by your side.”

Emma wanted to argue that she would never accept any of them even if her life depended upon it but she barely got to open her mouth before Killian pressed on. 

“And I know – I _know_ – that ultimately that decision would be yours, but darling, I am terrified that one day you might change your mind, come to your senses and realize that you deserve- just- _so much better_ than me.”

“I love you, Killian!” she argued. “ _You_. And my senses are fine, thank you very much.”

He stayed silent for a long moment. She could count the breaths they took for all the silence encompassing them, the sounds of music and laughter from the other side of the palace so indistinct that even the sound of the wind brushing in the trees was less hushed.

“Then come away with me.”

All the air left her lungs as if she’d fallen straight on her back.

“I… what?”

“Come with me. Marry me, Emma. Think about it. You _hate_ it here. You’ve told me more times than I can remember. You don’t have to stay, do you? Your brother can ascend the throne in your absence and… and we could be happy together.”

Of all the insane ideas he’d had during their years together, this one topped them all. Run away with him? (Did he say, “Marry me” or was she losing her mind?) Leave her parents and her kingdom? Shirk her responsibilities as future queen for purely selfish reasons?

“Emma,” he continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Imagine it. We could travel anywhere we wanted, anywhere in the world. You’d be _free_. No more ridiculous expectations or cozying up to corrupt leaders or wearing these-“ He gestured to her dress and sighed. “- _incredibly_ beautiful gowns that, according to you, are ‘less comfortable than a burlap sack.’”

That got her to smile a little, even though her mind was full of warring thoughts. The sincerity of his words and the hope she could see plain as day on his face were enough to sway some of her doubts.

It… _was_ crazy, right? There was no way she could…

But then, even if it were the most reckless, irresponsible, absurd idea, it sounded precisely like something she’d do. At least, something she would have done back when she were young and wild.

Had she really changed much, though, from that independent youth? Here she was, escaping from her royal duties and having a romantic rendezvous with her secret, dangerous lover at close to midnight. And truthfully, she _liked_ the person she was. Breaking rules, running off to have adventures, seeking the beauty in the world beyond their palace walls was the quintessence of Princess Emma – no, of _Emma_ ; no title, no rank, just Emma.

“I… don’t know that I’d make a decent pirate,” she said, half in jest. Killian’s dimples creased deeply into his cheeks and he shook his head in amusement. 

“Actually, I was… I was thinking of giving up on that life.” A truly shocking statement, Emma thought, coming from Captain Hook himself. He shrugged and brushed his thumb over the small dimple in her chin. “I could choose a more respectable career. Perhaps a ferryman or… a fisherman, even.”

“A fisherman? Really?”

He ignored her teasing and went on without missing a beat. 

“We could paint the Jolly, rename her. Perhaps after my wayward Swan.”

She let out a shaky breath, remembering their first meeting several years earlier.

 

 

_“What are you boys playing?”_

_Despite her bravado, moseying up to the table and blatantly flirting with the gorgeous stranger in all his dangerous, roguish glory would not have been possible without the two shots of heavy rum swishing about in her stomach and seeping into her bloodstream. She could practically feel her legs trembling beneath her ratty skirts._

_She was no fool. As soon as she’d seen him from across the room, seen the way his metal appendage glimmered in the dusky lamplight of the tavern, she knew exactly who this man was. And maybe it was foolish of her to get involved, but she’d heard the whispered murmurs of the barmaids and the ladies of the night who frequented the establishment._

_Captain Hook was a hell of a lover. He never left a woman unsatisfied, always made them scream his name before he was through with them, and afterwards he would kiss them goodnight and the next day he’d be gone from port, off to pillage and plunder his share of treasure and women in another kingdom, another town._

_And that was_ exactly _what Emma needed. Just one night. Just a chance to experience what true pleasure felt like. Of the several men who had had the privilege of bedding her in the past, none had met her needs. They were too shy or nervous or inexperienced, and all so painfully aware of her station that they treated her like some delicate, fragile thing that would break if they held her too tightly. There was only one who had been bold in his attentions, a spoiled prince whom she’d slept with when she was young and reckless (younger, rather, and more reckless than she was now), but his skills unfortunately had not lived up to expectations. She feared that were she to someday marry, as her kingdom expected of her, she might be doomed to mediocre sex for the rest of her long, unfulfilling life._

_She’d come to the tavern just looking for a night of indulgence, where any handsome commoner that caught her eye would treat her as an equal instead of the princess she was, but as soon as she’d laid eyes on him she knew no other man would do. And even with her mind screaming at how poor a decision it would be, her heart did not listen._

_Hook’s perfectly sculpted brow quirked upwards as he perused her form. The corset was a size too small and her bosom nearly spilled over the top, giving him an excellent view of her cleavage. His gaze did not linger on it, though. Instead his eyes locked on hers and his tongue darted out to wet the corner of his lips._

_“Well, love, we_ were _playing a friendly game of chance, but I’m quite sure I’m done with it.”_

_His voice was husky and low, full of promise and temptation, and it was certainly a different sound than the raucous laughter she’d heard from him moments ago from across the room. But then she processed the actual words he’d said, her knees wobbling as she watched him flick his wrist, the group of men and ladies at the table all shuffling to their feet, accepting his short gesture as their cue to leave._

_He pulled the now empty chair beside him out for her and she took a deep breath as quietly as she possibly could before rounding the table and sitting. It was ridiculous how nervous she felt, her trembling hands wringing together to keep him from noticing._

_Without even a word from him, a barmaid brought an unopened bottle of rum and two shot glasses and placed them on the table. Emma couldn’t tell if it was fear or attraction shimmering in the brunette’s eyes as she glanced over at the man. Perhaps both._

_He poured a bit of rum in both glasses and slid one over to her. He threw his back in one swift motion and Emma followed, hoping the extra alcohol might settle her nerves._

_If she was going to do this, she needed to stop focusing on how dangerous and terrible a plan this was and instead try to come off as bold. Confident. Seductive. She’d have to forget all of her lessons on propriety, forget the stories she’d heard of Captain Hook’s deadly skills with a blade, forget whatever gossip might mar her family name should this little escapade with a known criminal somehow make its way to the royal court._

_The bottom of her glass hit the table and she immediately spoke to cover her anxiety, trying to distract herself from the way her heart pounded away inside her chest._

_“I have a confession to make,” she said. Hook grinned and she licked the remnants of rum from her lips._

_“Most women do,” he murmured, inching forward into her space, his stormy eyes staring deeply into hers._

_“I want to know,” she began, boldly reaching for the weapon that took the place of his left hand and sliding her fingers across the curve of it, “how you got the hook.”_

_“So…” He glanced down briefly at her lips and leaned that much closer to her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but his eyes were piercing and focused. “Here you know who I am and yet you haven’t even told me your name.”_

_He easily dodged her question and it didn’t escape her notice. Still, she was shocked to find she almost let her real name slip from her mouth, the rum loosening her lips and her inhibitions. Although if she were honest, a part of her believed it was Hook’s heavy gaze and sultry tone that had her losing her senses._

_Hook. Hook wasn’t his real name, surely. That would be ridiculous. And, well, if he had an alias, perhaps she could use one as well. A quick glance around the room unfortunately gave her no ideas. Emma was clever, but less so when inebriated. She supposed “Miss Wooden Chair” or “Miss Pint of Ale” were likely to leave Hook suspicious._

_And then it came to her, a strange memory from her childhood that should have had no place coming to mind at a time like this. She was not but fifteen, hiding out from the royal guards in a small little town at the edge of the forest, her clothes almost always covered in dirt and her hair a wild mess of matted curls. She had taken to bathing in a small lake – a pond, really – that had crystal clear waters and a small bevy of swans that she often admired from afar but never came close enough to touch._

_“It’s Swan,” she replied with a conviction in her voice that honestly surprised her._

_“Swan?” He used his hook to brush some strands of hair over her shoulder and her teeth sunk into her lower lip, heat rising to her cheeks. “Just Swan?”_

_“Just Swan,” she confirmed._

_She watched intently as he curled his fingers around the bottle again and poured them each another shot. More liquid courage was all too tempting and she felt a shiver run through her after downing it._

_“Well.” He took his shot slowly this time, gazing upon her face unwaveringly as he drank it. When his glass hit the table he rose to his feet and held his hook out to her. “Have you ever been on a pirate ship, Swan?”_

“Love?”

His voice snapped her back to the present. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking the small wisps of hair that had fallen from her up-do behind her ear. “I just haven’t heard you call me that in so long.”

He chuckled, then gently pressed his lips to her cheek, his whiskers tickling her skin.

“So? What do you think?”

It took her a moment to remember why she had lost herself in that memory to begin with. Ah, right; his ship.

“Isn’t it bad luck to rename a ship?”

“Bad things happened aboard her before she was the Jolly, love. And plenty of _good_ things,” he said, nudging her chin with the knuckle of his forefinger, “have happened since. I believe in many things, love, have _seen_ the forces of magic, both good and evil. But I don’t believe in silly superstitions and I don’t believe in luck. Why do you think I always use loaded dice?”

She shook her head, smiling and huffing a laugh.

“’Game of chance,’ my ass.”

“Such language, Princess.”

She loved this. She loved the flirting and teasing, the sheer ease of being in his company. And she wanted more than just fleeting moments, too. How incredible would it be to not spend every hour of every day pining for him? How comforting would it be to go to sleep in his arms and wake up every morning to the gentle sway of the sea, the scent of salt and leather and old, wet wood, and his sleepy smile? How freeing would it be to have no schedule to follow, no insufferable council meetings, no pressure to entertain guests to appease her family, no itchy dresses, no balls…

No _destination_. They could truly go anywhere. She could visit cities on the other side of the world, could possibly even travel to another realm should the opportunity arise. She could experience every bit of adventure she’d been craving since childhood, all with Killian by her side.

Could she though? Was it awful of her that she was even considering it?

She didn’t realize her expression had soured with her conflicting thoughts until she felt Killian’s thumb smoothing away the crease between her brows. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him and he let his hand fall to her waist, pulling her closer with both arms around her.

“Emma, look, if it’s too much… you don’t have to decide now. I know I said I can’t, but you know I’d do this with you forever if that’s what you wanted of me.”

He was always thinking of her first, putting his own needs aside because he thought that was what would make her happy. It wasn’t fair of her to let him believe that to be true.

Because, truthfully, she _did_ want to run away with him. And it was now so clear to her that whatever life she’d find with him out in the vast world beyond the palace walls was the one she wanted to live for the rest of her life.

Amazing, she thought, how a spark of desire those years ago became this – a deep and earnest love beyond her wildest dreams. Her parents, with their renowned true love, _must_ be able to understand that, if nothing else. 

She slid one arm around his shoulders and one around his waist, staring at the lips she desperately wanted to kiss the frown from, and brushed the tip of her nose against his, sighing into his warmth.

“Let’s do it,” she whispered against his lips.

The kiss was all too brief, cut off as Killian’s head jerked away so he could stare at her in awe.

“’Let’s do it’?”

She grinned at the glimmer of childlike excitement in his widening eyes.

“Yes. Yes, let’s-“

A gasp escaped her throat as he lifted her into the air, twirling her around on the balcony and laughing so loudly she was afraid someone might hear and come to investigate.

“Shh!” she chided, giggling quietly at his antics.

He set her down and kissed her cheeks and nose and forehead and every bit of her face he could and Emma was positive she’d never seen him so carefree and overflowing with joy. It was contagious, this happiness.

Somehow, now that she’d made the decision, the consequences did not weigh as heavily on her heart as she thought they would. Killian was right; her brother was just as fit to ascend the throne as she was, perhaps even more so. Her kingdom would suffer no great loss. And even if they were sad or angry or resented her for leaving, she trusted that her family would – if not now, someday – understand why she needed to leave.

Killian took a step back, frantically patting at his chest and sides like he was searching for something before sighing in frustration.

“What?” she asked, still breathless from her laughter.

“I, uh… Sorry, love,” he said, scratching at the scruff by his ear nervously. “Seems I made a mistake leaving my coat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I sort of have a ring?”

Her eyes widened incredulously.

“So… when you said to marry you, you really meant… _marry_ you.”

“Aye.” He shrugged sheepishly, his smile apologetic. “I’d planned on asking you properly, you know. Down on one knee and everything.”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. So…” he said, grinning as he sank down onto his knee. She allowed him to take her hand in his, her heart beating rapidly in her chest and her too-tight corset making it harder to breathe. “With the promise of offering you the ring as soon as I can… Emma, you are everything to me. I gladly give you my heart and soul, my very life. And I ask you in return to give me a life with you by my side.”

“Kil-“

“Marry me, love.”

She tugged hard on his hand to drag him back up, then threw her arms around his shoulders, whispering, “Yes. Yes, _yes_ ,” against his lips as he held her tightly against him.

It was mere hours later before Emma felt the sea air against her skin, standing tall on the deck of the Jolly Roger, soon to be The Wayward Swan once they made port and went to work on changing her colors. She was wearing comfortable trousers, now, and one of Killian’s black shirts instead of the fancy dress she’d ripped to shreds while escaping the castle grounds.

Killian stood at the helm, glancing over to her as he steered them out and away from the flickering lights from her kingdom, now just as far away as they’d been from her library balcony but no longer filling her with a feeling of longing.

She’d left a letter with her handmaiden to deliver to her parents, begging the woman to stay quiet until after the ball and thanking her a thousand times over when she finally agreed. She wished she could have said goodbye in person to them, and also to her younger brother, but she couldn’t risk it.

She wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes to rid herself of the image of the palace in the distance and the small pang of guilt that it instilled in her, and instead focusing on the way the cool breeze whipped tendrils of her hair about her face.

“Cold?” 

His voice was rumbly and low, spoken almost against the skin of her bare neck as she felt his warm body settle behind her. He skimmed his nose along her skin and gingerly kissed behind her ear as he pulled her against him.

“No,” she sighed softly, leaning back and tilting her head to rest against his shoulder, then raising her left hand in the air before them. The silver band and colorful jewels on her ring finger shimmered in the moonlight. “I’m not cold anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Snow carefully placed the letter on the table in front of her husband, sliding a hand on his shoulder as his eyes scanned the page. When he was finished, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, gaze flickering up to hers.

She smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he mirrored her expression.

“So she finally went and did it, huh.”

“We certainly couldn’t keep that thirst for adventure quenched here, could we?”

“She takes after you.”

“Oh no, Charming, I think she’s a generous mix of us both.”

David wrapped his fingers around hers, dragging her hand away from his shoulder and bringing it to his lips. Snow let herself relax, her smile widening.

“You think she really believed that we didn’t know about her little paramour?” he asked, amusement causing his laughter lines to sink deeper into his cheeks.

“For such an intelligent young woman, she can be rather obtuse. Or perhaps we’re just more deceptive than we give ourselves credit for.”

They both laughed quietly for a brief moment, then fell silent. They’d never wanted Emma to feel so suffocated in her role as princess, but they were her parents, after all. It had taken a long time to come to terms with the fact that she was just meant for another life.

And if her letter had been any indication, she’d found a love as strong and true as their own. Letting her go was the hardest thing they’d ever have to do but they trusted her judgment, and more than that, they wanted to respect her decision to be independent.

“We should send her a letter in return,” David said, gently squeezing Snow’s hand. “Give her our blessing.” 

“That’s a lovely idea. Perhaps someday soon she’ll come home to visit. We may even get to finally meet the man who she’s given her heart to.”

With that, they scrawled a heartfelt letter to their daughter on a small scroll of fresh parchment, marking it with the family crest pressed into bright red wax. Then they tied it to the leg of Snow’s favorite messenger bird, whispering instructions to take it to sea, to the Jolly Roger, to the princess and her pirate.


End file.
